The Devil's Triangle (6 page)

Niamh hesitated on the brink. She dipped the toes of her left foot into the water, trailing them around in a quick arc. The air temperature was so hot that the water was never going to feel warm. Getting in slowly would only prolong the agony. She took a deep breath.

Geroni—
she thought as she prepared to jump. Her lips tightened in a hard line as she cut the word off midway in her mind. ‘Geronimo!’ was what Sam normally yelled as he leapt into the pool. ‘Stuff you and your stupidity, Sam!’ she muttered aloud.

She stepped off the side, tucking into a tight ball as she hit the water. The shock was not as bad as she had anticipated. The water felt cool, but not unpleasant. Pushing up from the bottom, Niamh stretched out and began to swim.

The pool was not long enough to do any more than a few strokes in each direction, but the physical exertion was enough to warm her and disperse some of the tightness in her back and shoulders. After racing back and forth for several minutes, she stopped. Her heart was pumping fast and she was breathing hard.

Closing her eyes, she laid her head back in the water and tried to imagine her heart and lungs purging the tension from her body. It didn’t work. Rather than relaxing, Niamh could feel muscles throughout her body tightening still further. She hadn’t felt this sort of nervous anticipation since . . . a shudder rippled through her body . . . since she couldn’t remember when. She’d been angry with Sam plenty of times, but her anger had never made her feel like this before.

She opened her eyes and looked around, spinning suddenly in the water to scan the area immediately surrounding the pool. Was she missing something? Was her body instinctively reacting to a danger she wasn’t consciously aware of? There were some dangers in the Florida Keys. The worst normally came in human form, though there were a few animals that could pose a threat. Niamh scoured the poolside and nearby bushes and trees. The chance of a dangerous animal threatening her here at the house was remote, but she couldn’t imagine much else that would bring her this close to outright panic.

The barest breath of a breeze was playing gently with the palm fronds overhanging the deck at either end of the pool. A gecko skittered across the poolside, head bobbing as it went, and feet moving impossibly fast. The ever-present chirruping of the cicadas was the only obvious sound. Niamh concentrated, listening hard. The distant sound of cars travelling along the Overseas Highway was just audible, but there were no signs or sounds of anything threatening.

‘This is crazy!’ she exclaimed aloud. ‘I’m getting paranoid!’

She checked her watch. How long had the boys been gone? About an hour? If Sam kept his word, it would be roughly another hour before she could expect them to return. She turned, intending to push off and scull the length of the pool on her back when a sudden overwhelming terror enveloped her.

Niamh wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. It felt as though her chest was crumpling like a paper bag sucked empty of air. There was a surreal moment as her mind seemed to separate and the part that had become detached looked down at her body in the pool. Then, for the briefest instant, she seemed to be looking at Callum holding a fishing rod. It wasn’t a dream. There was too much detail and texture to the vision. And it couldn’t be a memory, because she had always declined to go on fishing trips, preferring instead to spend the time sunbathing.

A pulling sensation inside her head suddenly ripped with such terrible violence that it felt as though her brain was being torn in two. Her hands flew to her temples, fingertips spread and pressing hard against her skull as if she could somehow push them through the bone and hold everything in place. It was agony. It was ecstasy. It was an eternity of torture in an instant. Without warning the pain vanished. And with it, the vision – cut off as if someone had hit the power button on the TV. She could breathe again. Her fingers relaxed the pressure against her scalp, but she didn’t remove them. She felt empty. As if a part of her was missing.

She screamed something: a single word. All strength deserted her legs and Niamh fell backwards into the water. The surface closed over her and for a moment she lay under the water watching streams of bubbles from her body wriggling up towards the surface in dancing silver columns. Slowly, her natural buoyancy lifted her, and as soon as her face surfaced, she began to gasp in great mouthfuls of air. Tears mingled with the streams of pool water tracking across her cheeks as she panted, her heart thumping with urgent rhythm against her ribcage.

Gone! Gone! Gone!
The word repeated over and over in her mind. What was gone? She didn’t know. Something. A part of her was missing. The hole gaped in her mind and inside her chest. Emptiness. Void. It felt wrong. That was as much as she could rationalise.

With a supreme effort, she regained enough control of her body to get to the side of the pool and haul herself out of the water. Despite the heat of the Florida sun and the hot surface of the pool deck, she felt cold. Goose pimples raised the skin on her arms and legs. She began to shiver. Intense muscle spasms began to run up and down her body, causing her to moan as one cramp overtook another. She wanted to cover herself, to wrap a towel round her shoulders and feel the comfort of the soft material squeeze her arms and body, but the thought of crossing the deck to where her towel was slung over the back of a sunbed made her feel sick.

Her mind replayed the image of Callum holding the fishing rod. His face had worn an expression of curiosity. Then had come the moment of separation.

The word Niamh had screamed as her strength had deserted her was her brother’s name. The feeling of emptiness – of being incomplete – suddenly made horrifying sense. Something had happened to Sam. Was he dead? Was that why she had felt the tearing sensation?

Niamh had always shared a close empathic bond with her twin brother. Even when they were apart, there had been occasions when she had known Sam was experiencing particularly intense emotions. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she could predict his moods with uncanny accuracy when she rang him. He had confessed to similar experiences, though from what he had told her, Sam’s perception of her was not as strong. The only times he had ever felt her was when her emotions were particularly powerful. Instinctively, she knew that the hole inside her was something to do with the strange link they shared. Panic gripped her tighter. Could Sam feel her now? She had never had such a strong sensation of fear before. She had to tell Dad.

Forcing herself up onto her hands and knees, Niamh crawled to the nearest chair and used it to help get to her feet. Her head was still spinning as she crossed the deck to the glass door. It took every ounce of energy she could muster to slide it open. The telephone was on the breakfast bar, just a few short steps away.

Now she was on her feet and into the air-conditioned living area, her head was clearing fast. Her strength was returning and she crossed to the breakfast bar with relative ease.

What if I’m wrong and the boys are fine?
she asked herself as she picked up the handset. She paused.
They’ll be livid that I’ve ratted on them to Dad.

The hollow feeling of loss and emptiness denied that possibility. She knew she
had
to make the call. Without further thought, she punched in the number and lifted the handset to her ear. It seemed to take an eternity for the line to connect.

‘Come on! Come on!’ she urged, hugging her spare hand round her body and rubbing at her other arm. Her shivering was getting worse again and her teeth had begun chattering, but this time from genuine cold. The cool air from the nearby overhead air-conditioning unit played across her wet body.

‘We are sorry, but the person you are calling is not available right now. Please leave a message after the tone . . .’

‘NO!’

Beeeep.

‘Dad! It’s Niamh. Ring me now! It’s urgent.
Pleeease
ring. I think something terrible’s happened.’

She hung up and instantly dialled the number again. Hopping from one foot to the other as she waited again for the connection, she prayed that he would pick up this time. The ringing tone began. Again it rang and rang until the automated message began. There seemed little point in leaving a second message. She hung up and tottered across the living room and along the hallway to her bedroom. There was nothing more she could do until she was warm, dressed and thinking more clearly.

Rather than dry off, Niamh elected to have a shower first to rid her body of the smell of the pool chemicals. Moments later, she was standing under the powerful spray of hot water and the stream of warmth cascading over her body ended her shivering. The heat felt almost therapeutic. She closed her eyes and tilted her face upwards to allow the water to beat against her forehead, eyes, cheeks and nose. Turning, she rinsed her hair, feeling her body relax as the heat washed over her.

It was a good five minutes before she left the shower. Once out, she was quick to get dried and dressed. What to do next though? The overwhelming sense that something bad had happened to her brother had not gone away. She returned to the living room and tried ringing her father again. As before, there was no answer. She hung up.

Who could she ring? Instinctively, her fingers began a text to her best friend Beth, but she had barely keyed in a line before she abandoned it. Beth was a good friend, but not renowned for level-headedness. Niamh needed to make rational decisions. Texts from Beth were likely to be a distraction.

Her right index finger hovered over the number nine. Should she dial 911? Who would she ask for? The coastguard? The Sheriff’s Office? And what would she tell them? ‘Hi, I’m a fourteen-year-old girl visiting from England. My brother’s been an arse and nicked our dad’s boat. I’ve got this feeling that he’s in trouble. Please send out your men to find him.’ They’d probably think she was some sort of crackpot.

No. Any official agencies would need something more concrete to go on than the intuition of a teenage girl.

Suddenly, Niamh had an idea. Mr Mitchell had a boat. Maybe he would go out and look for the boys. He might even take her with him; though she was not sure she wanted to go. In the back of her mind, she was worried about what they might find. Niamh grabbed her mobile from the breakfast bar, took the house keys from the hook on the wall nearby and started locking up. Although she had not seen the Mitchells for a couple of years, they were good friends of her father and she had often spent time at their house when she was younger.

It was only a two-minute walk to the Mitchells’ house, but despite still feeling shaky, her legs suddenly seemed to take on a life of their own and she broke into a run. As she raced around the corner and tore up the Mitchells’ driveway at a sprint, she caught a glimpse of someone moving inside. A warm rush of relief welled inside her. The Mitchells were lovely. They would help. She knew it.

Moira Mitchell answered the door. ‘Niamh, honey! Look at you! You’re all grown up! We missed seeing you last year. Come inside. It’s great to see you. What’s the big hurry? You’re looking kinda flustered. You on yer own?’

‘Yes, Mrs Mitchell,’ she panted, interlocking her fingers in front of her body as she stepped through the door. She took a deep breath to calm her breathing. ‘That’s kind of why I’m here.’

‘Please call me Moira. Mrs Mitchell makes me feel so old!’

Niamh smiled. It was hard to imagine Moira Mitchell ever being old. She had one of those ageless Hollywood faces: beautiful skin, perfect teeth, immaculately styled auburn hair and not a hint of a wrinkle in sight.

‘So the boys have gone out and left you, have they?’ Moira continued, ushering her through to the living area. ‘That’s not very friendly of ’em. Come on through and I’ll fix you a drink. Whaddaya fancy?’

‘A fruit juice would be nice, thank you, Moira,’ Niamh said. The name felt strange on her lips. ‘Um. Is Mr Mitchell around today?’

‘He was, but he went out fishin’ a few hours back. Is there a problem? Did you need a hand with somethin’?’

‘No . . . that is, yes . . . I’m not sure. It’s Sam. He and his friend took Dad’s boat out without his permission earlier and I’ve got a dreadful feeling that something bad has happened to him.’

‘Were you expecting him back already?’

‘No, it’s not that . . .’ How could she explain the experience by the pool to Moira without sounding neurotic? ‘It’s just that Sam and I have always been close. I know it sounds weird, but I can sometimes sense when he’s in trouble.’

‘You’re twins, ain’t you?’ Moira said, nodding. ‘I’ve heard stranger things. Come on. If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll call Sam on the radio. Your dad’s boat’s got a radio fitted, don’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ve got a VHF transmitter in the garage. I got it so I could remind Mitch to come home an’ eat occasionally. The range ain’t great, but I can usually holler loud enough to get his attention. If they don’t answer, Mitch will. Worst comes to worst, Mitch can go look for ’em.’

‘Sam was talking about fishing just beyond the reef. He should have his radio on, but I expect he’s several miles away. Will your radio reach that far?’

‘Who knows, honey? I just press the button ’n’ yell. Mitch normally answers pretty quick. He knows his life won’t be worth squat if he don’t. Let’s give it a try, shall we?’

CHAPTER SIX